


the rest of his life

by captain_emmajones



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, I'm almost sorry, Pain, i almost cried writing this one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-14
Updated: 2017-09-14
Packaged: 2018-12-29 19:16:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12091638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captain_emmajones/pseuds/captain_emmajones
Summary: based on the spoilers for season 7, aka Emma leaves, and this is how i imagined it. (sorry.) "For his daughter will not be able to miss her properly; few memories of Emma Swan will survive the years.(The thought should help him sleep; that her pain shall pass along with the memories.It kills him even more ruthlessly.)





	the rest of his life

**Author's Note:**

> "There are moments when, whatever be the attitude of the body, the soul is on its knees.”   
> ― Victor Hugo

He is four year old when his father warns him about Her. 

 

He remembers it clearly; how tiny it felt between the solid arms of this very tall man. Recalls perfectly his perfume amidst the saltiness of the waves underneath them; spices and leather and the lavender bath soap they shared. 

 

The loneliness of the moon, a starless night, is still clearly engraved in his memory, a starless night. (Back then, he did not know this moment to be farewell.) 

 

“Look son,” his father’s words in his childish ears, “how tender the Sea is tonight. And yet, She could crash us both in the blink of an eye.” 

 

A feeling of incomprehension then, for the child he was could not understand how something of such beauty could be so treacherous. 

 

“Do not, Killian,” a breath, his father’s long curls brushing his wee cheeks, “ever turn your back on the Sea,” a pause, innocence grasping a glimpse of understanding, “She will  _ immediately _ reclaim what is Hers.” 

 

. 

 

He learns later that the Sea carries farewell. The Sea carries his father away, and when he drags himself on deck the very same night, small fingers white and trembling and  _ where is papa Liam _ , he figures out the Sea never gives you back what She has taken. 

 

“Let me look, Liam! I might see papa on a boat!” And to look until one’s eyes are tickling, burning, to look and not to blink for he would have missed papa _ , obviously _ , to look in between ruthless tears. 

 

For the mind might not accept sorrow but the body kneels. 

 

.

 

The Sea may be cruel and untamable, but She saves him for salvation. 

 

She is a peaceful distraction among hell, fresh pearls against his sunburnt face, a relief as his wee hands shake from exhaustion. She is the knowing smile he and Liam exchange over work. 

 

She becomes his best friend, his first love. 

 

His brother’s grave,  _ may you hold him gently in his eternal sleep _ , the witness of his fate. 

 

She witnesses Milah’s death and his screams in the night. She catches his tears and reverently accepts his love in Her arms. 

 

.

 

She is the hardest thing to give up when he falls for Emma. She is a sacrifice he however makes willingly, leaves behind Her fresh arms for vanilla and cinnamon. 

 

.

 

Later, She reclaims what has always been Hers to begin with; later, when happiness echoes in his laughter, and there is a blonde lass running down the Jolly Roger, She takes back his life. 

 

. 

 

It was a marvellous day. One to be remembered for the agreeable warmth, and the most profound blue sky. 

 

A sailor should have known. A sailor would have seen the fury coming. 

 

But after years at shores, he did not. 

 

.

 

Elizabeth Swan is four year old when she loses her mother. 

 

If his pain is unbearable, intolerable, is fire and ashes in his blood, worse than anything Hades had ever done to him,  _ her _ pain simply  _ kills _ him. Extinguishes each of his cells, dries his eyes until it becomes impossible for him to close them. 

 

He thinks of her at ten, blue eyes shimmering in the middle of a golden field, he thinks of her smile, he thinks of the shadow passing before her eyes as her heart yearns for whom is gone and will never come back. He thinks of the change in her wee face then, of the insoutenable heartbreak. And not so long afterwards, he thinks of her features finding peace again. 

 

For his daughter will not be able to miss her properly; few memories of Emma Swan will survive the years. 

 

(The thought should help him sleep; that her pain shall pass along with the memories. 

 

It kills him even more ruthlessly.) 

 

. 

 

The Jolly Roger dies, too, in the wreck. He abandons her there, on the beach, his little love asleep in his arms, and this lifeless wind slaughtering his cheeks, jaw clenched and red eyes. 

The scent of salt and the Sea strangles him. 

 

A scream is caught in his throat. 

 

“You have taken  _ enough _ from me,” he swears, words trembling, but it only echoes as a plea. 

 

. 

 

Eliza(beth) is the one who makes their reconciliation a possibility; she is lightness herself and he often wonders how something this good could come off of him. 

 

He laughs to himself on the couch of their new apartment,  _ but why do we have to leave papa?,  _ as she concentrates herself on paper _ , _ blond eyebrows frowned and pinkish lips pursed _. Of _ bloody  _ course _ , she is  _ nothing _ like him. She is  _ everything _ of hers. 

 

(He is very careful with these thoughts, is very good at burying them in his mind, for they always seem to bring him back to Emma. Not thinking of her is easier. It allows him to breath. 

 

Because one moment of carelessness is enough, one moment where his mind loses itself and he finds her again. 

 

It’s hell then. A whirlwind. 

 

Leaves him sobbing on the floor of their new apartment, whipping until there are no more tears and no more him.) 

 

.

 

“Happy birthday, papa.” 

 

His little love hands him a dream catcher as the whole Charming family watches, and he hardly swallows. 

 

The colourful “happy birthday” posters behind her tickle his eyes, knot something in his chest. 

 

“Thank you, my love.” 

 

He is terrified and smiles harder as she eyes him meticulously, blue eyes sparkling with excitement. 

 

She can barely stand on her feet without jumping up and down. He does not notice how expert is her hand over his on the wooden dream catcher. 

 

She finally murmurs in a smile : “Look, papa.” 

 

He lowers his head. And is completely wrecked. 

 

He inhales - it is painful and freeing - and exhales one name. 

 

“Swan.”

 

.

 

He cannot quite comprehend it all. He is bewitched, and seems to be the only one in the living room. 

 

His little love has magic. His little love has been training to offer him this gift. 

 

And what a gift: memories of his life shared with his true love. 

 

(He is not aware of the tears hurtling down his cheeks, and nobody bothers to tell him the Sea inhabits him.) 

 

.

 

“You know, papa, I could rebuild the Jolly in the blink of an eye,” she assures him at night, blonde head against his shoulder. 

 

The room smells like lasagna and chocolate cake, and something weighs on his chest. 

 

“I know, little love. But I am not ready to forgive Her.” 

 

She nods then, grabs his arms harder. “As you wish, papa.” 

 

.

 

He cherishes her gift. He cherishes it until it is no longer sain. 

 

Until he forgets to sleep and eat, lost in his past, lost in his love, until he is able to see her sitting next to him, intact, unchanged. 

 

“ _ Oh _ , Killian, we will be reunited soon enough,” her hands are on his cheeks, soft and warm and alive. A terrible sob shakes him and he is four again, “please,” her plea, the concern in the forest of her eyes, “take care of yourself.” 

 

.

 

How cruel is the awakening, when he finds her side of the bed cold and empty and this neverending  _ rest of his life _ without her going on. 

 

.

 

Eliza takes him at the beach for her 28 birthday. He cannot even try to argue with her. 

 

“It’s my only wish, papa.” 

 

The wind is both familiar and foreign against his wrinkled skin, and his steps are no longer sure as they walk towards the docks, her slim arm curled around his. 

 

He licks his lips, tastes salt and bitterness and nostalgia, and tries really hard not to be overwhelmed. He blames his age for his shattered respiration,  _ you should have seen me young captain, little love _ , but she is no fool. 

 

“Aren’t you ready?” she finally asks him as they face the ocean. 

 

The dark blue waves are mesmerizing. Dreadful. 

 

He looks down at her, faints he does not understand, and crosses the judgement in her eyes. 

 

It stings, right here, in his heart. 

 

He takes a step back, a reflex, before inhaling deeply the sea air. 

 

“Aye, little love. It is high time I made peace with Her.” 

 

.

 

He lives quite old. And quite well. 

 

He is acquainted with Her again, becomes reluctantly Her friend again. (He’s seventy when he sails again after forty years.) 

 

He witnesses everything he had ever hoped for: Elizabeth’s wedding, the birth of her children, their first steps. 

 

He remains when everyone leaves, is there when Snow and David go in the same breath at eighty-two, when Regina holds Henry’s hand for the last time, holds his dear Belle when the crocodile fades away. 

 

. 

 

He waits for her. Knows she is waiting for him. 

 

.

 

Eventually, at ninety-four, he falls asleep peacefully; knowing he endured pain and his heart survived. 

 

.

 

“Killian. Killian…” 

 

How heavy his eyelids are, how warm and safe he feels. “Killian, wake up.” And her voice is the most soothing one he has ever heard. 

 

He opens his eyes. His breath is caught. 

 

“Emma,” a whisper, happiness, “my love.” He forgets everything of his condition, engulfed by her. 

 

She is as beautiful as he remembered her; laying next to him in their bed, her pale skin is glowing from youth, pink lips spread in a content smile, and her eyes, lord, this forest green marked on his heart. 

 

“I’ve been waiting for you, pirate,” her fingers follow her words, and he does not realize yet that she is wiping away his tears, “you’ve surely been taking your sweet time.” 

 

He closes his eyes at the touch of her hand, swallows down a painful reminder of the rest of his life without her, “It’s been bloody difficult, Swan. Bloody difficult.” 

 

He licks his lips to muffle a cry, muffle this scream of agony he did not free. 

 

“Shhh, Killian,” her naked body comes closer to his as she presses her forehead against his, “it’s over now. We’re together forever.” 

 

His trembling hands find her hair as he brings his mouth to hers. “I’ve missed you my love.” 

 

The rest of their lives could begin. 

**Author's Note:**

> “Even the darkest night will end and the sun will rise.”   
> ― Victor Hugo, Les Misérables


End file.
